Pie Shop of Horrors
by Nymbis
Summary: After the events of RE4. Leon, the Merchant, and a man date at a nice cafe. “What are yeh sellin’?” “Um, the special is peach cobbler.” “Ah…I’ll buy it at a high price!”


**Pie Shop of Horrors**

It was a strange turn of events, to be sure. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, actually. One fine afternoon, he was on a simple stroll through the park- Kevlar vest on, of course, as one could never be too careful- and the next thing he knew, he was being badgered by the living embodiment of entrepreneurship on the black market.

"What'll it be, stranger?" He had growled, whipping open his trench coat in that alarming manner of his that sent heads quickly turning in the other direction.

"Nothing, thanks," he had grunted in response, lifting a hand dismissively and continuing on his walk.

However, it happened again a few blocks down. And again when he turned the corner. And when he saw that blue fire roaring on top of a mailbox, Leon decided that someone needed A Talking To.

"Look, uh, Merchant-"

"What'll it be…stranger?"

"See, that's the thing, I don't _need _anything-"

"Gotta few new things for you…stranger."

"It's Leon." One would think that he would have been upgraded past 'stranger' by now, seeing as the demented man had followed him through a biologically deadly country in order to make a sale.

The Merchant rose an eyebrow, not that Leon would have seen it, "Not enough cash?" He asked sympathetically.

"I've got more than enough cash, I'm just not interested," a pregnant pause occurred, allowing him to toss his hair, "So thanks," a few hairs fell back down, "But no thanks."

The Merchant stared at him for a few minutes, not really sure what to make of this. "What're yeh sellin'?"

Leon sighed slowly, "I'm not selling anything. I appreciate the help, uh, Merchant, but the mission is over. I won't be needing firearms for awhile, and I've got more than a few cops on my tail due to something about an illegal firearms law infringement-"

"Over there, stranger," the Merchant whispered, nodding towards a secluded area.

"You're not getting it," he muttered, sounding horribly tired, "He's not getting it."

"I've got a selection of good things on sale…stranger!" He prompted, sounding almost offended that the stranger was holding out on him.

Leon frowned, "I don't have anything!"

"I'll buy it at a high price!"

"Ugh, look, I'm employed by the government now so I'll have all the ammunition and guns that I need paid for-" he paused, as a strange, wheezing noise came from behind a purple scarf, "What?" Leon asked, sounding cross.

The pair of filmy eyes that were a really inconsistent color looked pointedly skyward as a low whistle sounded, "Nothin'."

Leon continued to stare at him intently, "…Fine." He continued to stare, but the Merchant gave nothing away, "And anyways, I appreciate the somewhat outlandish dedication, but I'd like for you to stop trying to sell me things everywhere I go. It was really difficult trying to explain to my employer why I was giving away herbal mixtures to a strange man in an overcoat in exchange for foreign money-"

"I got somethin' special for yeh!" the Merchant interrupted, somehow managing to pull out a customized TMP that magically bent the laws of science in order to shoot around corners and never require ammo from his pants.

Leon's eyes widened. It was _really _nice…, "No!" He said, "I'm done with this, I don't need anything," he turned around, sauntering off as he gave a cool guy hand wave over his shoulder without looking back, "I'll see you around."

"You'd need guts to buy that weapon," the Merchant said ever so nonchalantly, pulling his coat closed and taking out a list of frequent customers. He crossed off Leon S. Kennedy and read the next potential buyer, "I suppose I'll have ta go ask a-" he squinted, "-Chris Redfield-"

"I'll take two," Leon said, suddenly appearing at the Merchant's right elbow with a golden statue of a jungle cat.

"Heh he heh, thank yeh…stranger," the Merchant said gleefully, taking The Golden Puma to add to his collection at home, "I've got a selection of good things-"

"No, these are fine," Leon said with finality, hoisting the twin TMPs over each shoulder. He was running out of felines carved from precious metals, and he wasn't quite ready to part with the Beerstein yet, "I got to get going. The President's Daughter needs me for something at the office-"

"Eh, stranger?" The Merchant asked, sounding somewhat hesitant and insecurely hugging The Golden Puma, "Would yeh…would yeh like to grab a bite?"

Leon stared at the strange man, wondering if he could allow himself to believe that he had just been asked out on a man date by an arms enthusiast. He inhaled sharply, tossing back his hair and shaking his head from side to side. They had been through a lot together, even if one had literally profited from the experience.

"Why not?"

---

The place the Merchant decided to go wasn't exactly what Leon had been expecting. It was a café called A&W, with handwritten menus on the wall and most of the seating outside on patio tables that had little red and white umbrellas. The restaurant was downright quaint.

"Huh," Leon said absently as he followed after the surprisingly nimble footed man, the Merchant making his way to the hostess whose face was reminiscent of someone with an open wound about to be thrown into a shark tank. Apparently he was a Regular.

"Hello and welcome to A&W's Mr. Merchanté, your regular table?" She asked, voice with the tone of a tightrope walker.

"Heh he heh, over there!" He pointed to a table that was in a remote corner of the place, right next to a fountain.

"Of course, sir."

As they were being seated, the Merchant looked at Leon, "They've got a selection of good things! Stranger."

Leon was sure the man was just throwing the 'stranger' in there to annoy him at this point.

The two men took seats across from each other, and the terrified hostess almost immediately set the menus down with a basket of bread sticks, "Your server will be with you shortly!" She squeaked, then blushed when Leon gave her a hopefully reassuring smile.

Leon wasn't actually that hungry, and his conversational skills left something to be desired, but he tried to make small talk none the less.

"So, Merchant…"

"Call me Eugene," replied the gravelly voice as the man across from him as he pulled down the purple scarf to eat his breadsticks.

Any and all attempts at conversation died at that point, and Leon's eyes went wide as he stared at the lower portion of the Merchant's-Euguene's?- face. No wonder the guy wore the bandana.

He tried to picture the man as a Eugene as he viciously masticated the breadstick like a leopard seal chomping down on a baby penguin.

"Eugene…your face…"

"Whut?"

Leon sighed, he had seen weirder shit, "Nothing."

As if a godsend, a scrawny looking waitress appeared, hands shaking as she pulled out a notepad and tried her best not to gawk at Eugene's exposed face, "He-hello, my name is Alice and I'll be your server-"

"Welcome…" the Merchant said, pausing from his terrifying chewing to look right at the girl who was about ready to wet herself, "What are yeh sellin'?"

"Um…" she paled, "The special is peach cobbler?"

"Ah…" Eugene smiled, the girl looked ready to throw up, "I'll buy it at a high price!"

"Uh, sir, that won't be necessary, since it's the special…"

"I'll buy it at a high price," the Merchant stated seriously.

Leon sighed. Poor kid, "We'll have two peach cobblers please."

The girl seemed to notice him for the first time, and one could see relief wash over her like the tide when she realized he was somewhat sane, "Right away!"

Leon yet again attempted small talk, "So, how about those viral breakouts we've been having?"

The Merchant ignored him, horrific mouth- if it could be liberally called a mouth- stuffing down breadsticks like there would one day be a time where breadsticks ceased to exist. It was then that Leon decided the black market arms dealer had _horrendous _table manners.

The peach cobbler was brought out almost immediately, and the Merchant smiled- if it could be liberally called a smile- and shifted his attention to the gooey dessert. Leon ate at a much more refined pace, taking the time to dab at his mouth with a napkin between bites.

The dessert went by in silence, the Merchant too busy making horrible crunching noises while he ate something that was mostly gelatinous, and Leon wondering why he had agreed to this in the first place.

"Here's your check," the waitress said with a squeak as she placed the bill on the table like a ticking time bomb. They had only been seated there for about ten minutes, and Leon realized that the Merchant had a bit of a reputation on him.

He watched in a mild sort of bemusement mixed with horror as The Merchant took the plate holding the remnants of the peach cobbler and slid it gracefully in his coat. There appeared to be no mess, and Leon had to wonder not for the first time the storage capabilities of the garment.

The former RCPD member then turned to the bill, and a startled sort of feeling took over. He zeroed in on what appeared to be an astronomically high number on the total line of the bill. His eyebrows furrowed, a frown making its way onto his features. Had that cobbler been made of pestos?

"Not enough cash?" The Merchant inquired none too helpfully.

Leon's frown grew, as he quickly took out enough money to pay, "I'm fine," he said in a tone that was hopefully far from defensive. He opened his wallet and his face fell. Nothingness looked back at him, "I'm a little short."

"Heh he heh," the Merchant said, pulling out a spinel from…somewhere, and leaving it on the table.

"Um, Merchant-"

"Yes, stranger?"

"That's kind of…worthless on the current market."

"What do you mean, stranger?"

"It's…not going to cover the bill."

"Ah," said Eugene, instead putting a gold bangle down, and being the considerate Merchant that he was, threw in a crown jewel or two.

Leon sighed, and inwardly hoped the owner of the place wouldn't be too upset.

---

After the pair had left and went their separate ways, Alice looked down at the gold bangle on the table.

"…shit," she swore, knowing that Manager Wesker hated when bills were paid with gemstones or precious metals.


End file.
